


Yours

by ozomin



Series: Yours & Mine [1]
Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Prompt Fill, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8309497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozomin/pseuds/ozomin
Summary: Barbero hears things he doesn't necessarily want to remember.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [91dayskinkmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/91dayskinkmeme) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Barbero hears strange noises coming from Nero's room. Fearing that Nero may be hurt, he needs to check what's going on. Awkwardly enough, Nero isn't in pain at all.  
> Bonus: Obviously Nero calls Avilio's name.

Barbero's used to carrying out the last rounds of the day making sure the doors are locked, designated members are outside doing their shift watch and that weapons are easily accessible should something happen.

The back half of his check before he goes to bed himself is to make sure Nero is where he says he is. Which is his new quarters as Don.

Which is also to say his bedroom actually sleeping, not drinking or in his office.

Barbero keeps his steps light as he makes his way down the hall. A sudden noise, a grunt maybe has Barbero hesitating if only for a moment.

Could it be Nero? Barbero could also be imagining it. Nothing really happens at this time of night. But on the off chance someone needs help, Barbero hurries down the hall towards the sound.

Nero's door is barely open, Barbero's about to shove it open but the noise stops him in his tracks.

It is Nero.

And the sounds he's making aren't pain at all.

Perhaps his nose is in the faint light that comes through the slit in the open door and maybe his face is as hot as the light bulb that sheds light on Nero's half bare body.

Barbero's frozen right there in front of the door. There's a voice, albeit small one, telling him to walk away and forget about this incident as soon as possible. But the larger part of him, is begging him to keep watching.

So Barbero does.

He watches Nero's hand stroke down the shaft of his cock. Barbero's knees buckle.

Nestled against Nero's side is a tinted telltale sign of an alcohol bottle. He must be drunk. Nero's head lolls back, the span of his throat thick and aching to be bitten.

Barbero bites the inside of his cheek. His eyes never straying from the muscles bulging in Nero's forearm as he strokes himself. He stills his hand and begins to lift his hips up, little thrusts that make Barbero as lightheaded as Nero probably feels.

Nero's voice is deep, grunts that rattle Barbero's chest, vibrate through his body as if Nero were right there touching his lips to Barbero's skin.

Nero humms through thick breath, hips stopping while he moves to press the reddened head of his cock between his thick fingers.

Barbero squirms and presses his thighs together. He's almost lost all other faculties that have nothing to do with sight.

Precome glistens sticky on the pads of his fingers as he moves them back and forth over the slit. Nero presses his thumb up against his cock, where another bead of precome slips free.

Nero's mouth goes slack, a choked moan paving the way past his wet lips.

In Barbero's wildest dreams, Nero's fantasizing about --

Well him.

Maybe it's his mouth taking in Nero's cock the way his fingers move back and forth like gentle flicks of tongue.

Maybe it's his hand stroking Nero to climax, Nero's own covering his like a guide.

Barbero shakes the thoughts away. Nero's too busy to look at anyone in that manner. He's simply alleviating pent up tension. It's always good to rub one out time and again anyway.

But he can't just leave, the idea of actualizing his fantasy of seeing what Nero's expression is when he comes is just too significant--

"Ah, ah, Avi--Avilio..." Nero's voice pulls taut, pulls Barbero right out of his daydream like a fisherman yanking a tuna from the ocean.

Barbero clenches his hands, if he keeps squeezing he could draw blood.

Nero begins to move his hand faster, with each change in tempo, Avilio's name slips out among syrupy groans that still make Barbero's back shiver.

Barbero wishes he'd never checked in on Nero. Nero would have kept this angry fantasy to himself and Barbero would've been none the wiser. He'd rather be ignorant because the alternative is just that much more painful.

But this? The current situation? He can't turn away from Nero heightened, Nero reaching nirvana.

So he doesn't.

He watches with cold eyes that melt each time Nero opens his mouth. Nero runs a hand through his hair, unruly with privacy. Golden strands fall haphazard across a forehead that shines thin with sweat. His eyes have fallen shut, heavy lids covering light blue eyes, eyes Barbero dreams about when he's too exhausted to care.

Blue eyes that only see gold, not Barbero's dull hazel.

Each mumble of Avilio name punctuates a painful beat of Barbero's heart that rises in his throat.

Nero shoulders stiffen, his whole body going rigid as he nears climax, the movement of his fist is almost a blur. It's everything Nero is that prevents Barbero from turning away, from resenting him. They've simply known each other too long for anything to cause a breakable rift between them--

"I'm close, Avilio, I'm so close," Nero's tone is tender, stalls Barbero's own breath. Nero's breath goes ragged, he chokes out a heavy moan the same moment milky come dribbles out over his fingers that slow to draw out the pressure.

Barbero chest is heaving, his hand is clasped to muffle his shock, his own responding groan.

It's with that Barbero lowers his hand, fights to calm his shivers and leaves before Nero notices him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!   
> poor barbero


End file.
